


Thin Walls (No Powers)

by LuckyPanda13



Series: Thin Walls [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Original Character(s), Showers, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPanda13/pseuds/LuckyPanda13
Summary: Charles didn't much care for his next-door neighbour, but that was primarily due to the loud sex he was having every evening with his even louder boyfriend. So, when his neighbour moved out, Charles was reasonably excited to not have to hear anything through his walls for a bit.Then, Erik moved in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have also written a "Powers" version of this story, that was posted first. It's essentially the same for all the important bits, just with powers.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

There was nothing Charles wished for more than a neighbour who was _not_ noisy. Really, he didn’t think that such a wish was demanding or impossible. Just a neighbour who respected the fact that the walls between the flats were thin and hearing the man next door having sex with his _very_ loud lover (who was always yelling in creole, for some reason) was _not_ something a neighbour should _have_ to deal with on a regular basis. Mr. L. Howlett, the name written on the buzzer at the front door, never had any qualms about letting his lover (boyfriend?) scream as loud as he wanted at _any_ time of the day or night.

So, it was with more joy than trepidation that he saw the moving van and Mr. L. Howlett (who had never been particularly friendly anyway) carrying boxes out of his flat. Charles, being taught fairly strict manners from his darling mum, offered his assistance, despite the obvious foolishness of accepting assistance from a man in a wheelchair. Charles was gruffly rebuffed (though that seemed to be Mr. L. Howlett’s personality rather than any personal antagonistic feelings towards Charles).

Before Charles could leave, Mr. L. Howlett was soon bombarded with another, very excited man (presumably his lover) and actually cracked a smile! Charles caught the muted conversation from his neighbour as he wheeled himself away, hearing the name “Remy” with a fondness and gentleness that didn’t match Mr. L. Howlett’s personality. Remy, whoever he was, was obviously important to him. Charles shook his head as he entered his flat, trying not to get caught up in his soon-to-be-ex neighbour’s personal life. But the gentleness in his neighbour’s voice made Charles think about the loneliness in his own life. He had few friends, none that were particularly close, and his parents had long since passed.

True, he had his sister (his adopted sister really, but neither of them thought that their relationship was anything less than true siblings), but she was traveling the world “trying to find herself” as she had put it. So, Raven was off on her own, barely able to contact Charles with all the various places and time zones she was passing through, and Charles was left at his flat by himself, working an ill-paying job as an administrative assistant. It wasn’t _that_ bad, since his family’s fortune prevented him from _ever_ having to work a day in his life, but he knew that he’d become a reclusive shut-in in a heartbeat if he stopped working and _forcing_ himself to interact with people on a regular basis.

It was two blissful weeks of pure auditory silence from the flat next-door, when Mrs. McNamara informed Charles that said empty flat was being let at last. Mrs. McNamara was a lovely elderly lady who lived upstairs from Charles and with whom Charles had assisted in carrying groceries and taste-testing batches of cookies. Charles wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge Mrs. McNamara had given him in one of the short, gossiping conversations that happened in the lift. He had quite enjoyed the quiet while it lasted, but knew it had to come to an end at some point. It seemed that he was finally getting a new neighbour, so he’d have to get used to noise that would be coming through the walls.

The new tenant, a Mr. E. Lensherr (if the name next to the buzzer was to be believed), moved in almost a week after Charles got the knowledge from Mrs. McNamara. Normally, Charles would offer his assistance to the new tenant and introduce himself, since they _were_ to be next-door neighbours, but Mrs. McNamara informed him that Mr. E. Lensherr was going to be moving in while Charles was at work. Charles, therefore, would not get the opportunity to get a glimpse of his new neighbour and find out what type of person he was with minimal effort, like he was hoping for. He’d have to actively seek out Mr. E. Lensherr if he wanted to answer his questions about the man.

After a long, incredibly exhausting day, Charles dragged himself home, silently complaining to himself about being stupid enough to agree to live on the third floor when he was in a _wheelchair_. Mrs. McNamara joined him from picking up her mail in waiting for the lift. She amiably informed him about the nice, young Jewish man who just moved in next door to him and about how sweet and lovely and polite he was to her when she introduced herself with a batch of her cookies. As usual, she tried to offer to set Charles up with the new neighbour (something she had done with _every_ new, single person who came into the building), and _then_ , when Charles had assured her that he was _fine_ on his own (despite internal evidence to the contrary), Mrs. McNamara tried to convince Charles to accept her assistance in wheeling him to his flat (which he never accepted). She proceeded to talk his ear off at his door before she finally left him alone. Charles adored the woman, he really did, but she could be trying when he was already tired from work.

She didn’t manage to leave without promising to tell Erik (the mysterious Mr. E. Lensherr) _all_ about Charles and how wonderful he was and how _single_ he was. By that point, Charles was tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally and he just wanted to take a long, hot shower and pass out on his bed. He locked up his flat behind himself and made his way into the bathroom. It took some doing, but he maneuvered himself into the chair he had placed in the tub that would allow him to take a shower (without sitting in the tub’s basin, which he knew from experience to be uncomfortable). He let himself relax under the hot water for a few long moments, emptying his thoughts and letting all the stress wash over him in the same way the water was. When he had eased the pain behind his brow and calmed his stressed mind, he got down to business and washed and cleaned himself thoroughly, singing along to Queen as he did so.

“I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball.” The voice that came through the wall was by no means part of Charles’ imagination. Charles choked on water and started coughing, trying to refocus himself to figure out _what_ was going on.

Charles struggled to calm his hacking and his racing heart. His neighbour, his _new_ neighbour, was apparently in the shower at the same time and had heard him singing. Instead of ignoring said singing, said new neighbour decided to join in? Charles wasn’t sure what to do with that. To be fair, he’d never been put in such a situation before.

“Don’t stop me now.” He sang, hesitantly. His neighbour accepted the invitation as it was and they finished the song as an impromptu duet. When they finished, his neighbour chuckled and banged on the wall in appreciation. Charles liked the sound of that chuckle.

“You’ve got a good voice.” He ventured, cautiously.

“As do you.” The man replied. “I’m Erik Lensherr, by the way. I just moved in.”

“I know.” Charles smiled. “I’m Charles Xavier.”

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I have no idea what you look like.” Erik replied, a smile evident in his voice.

“It can still be a pleasure.” Charles disagreed.

“Wait…” Erik paused. Charles wondered what he was thinking. “Charles. Are you the ‘Charlie’ that Mrs. McNamara was telling me about?”

“Did she use the words ‘lovely’, ‘darling’, and ‘sweetheart’?” Charles asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“Then yes. That’s me.”

Erik laughed.

It was a good laugh.

“Well, I’m afraid I must cut this short. I’ve got work in the morning.” Erik said, apologetically.

“Of course.” Charles nodded, forgetting, in the moment, that Erik couldn’t see him. _Hopefully, we meet in person and not through a wall next time._ Charles thought.

“Have a nice evening, Charles.”

“You, too.”

Charles couldn’t keep himself from having a physical reaction (see: erection) to Erik’s voice. The man had a bloody _sing-along_ with him to _Queen_ in the shower. It didn’t matter what he _looked_ like (though Mrs. McNamara had said he was cute), because Charles was entranced by his voice (and laugh). Charles made sure, though (out of pure paranoia), to wait to wank off until he was in his bed, where his soft, breathy noises were muffled by his pillow as the “Have a nice evening, Charles” ran through his mind over and over again in perfect clarity.

After that, Charles was hooked on Erik’s voice. Three weeks later, they had eighteen more sing-alongs, eleven philosophical discussion, three long-winded debates, and one ongoing mental chess match that started during the second conversation the night after the first sing-along. There was one particular debate that turned into a fully-fledged argument that was heated enough for them to not speak to each other the next night. But, they both got over their personal issues quickly enough, because the following evening, they were back to their chess match and sing-alongs.

Oh, and they had _yet_ to meet in person. It was getting a little past the point of absurdity, actually. They were _next-door neighbours_ and they hadn’t even physically _seen_ each other since Erik moved in. Charles was actually getting to the point where he didn’t even _want_ to physically see Erik because he thought it would be awkward and weird. Erik was just this disembodied voice that came through the wall and joined him in singing and having philosophical debates in the shower (and the voice he wanked off to, but that was entirely beside the point).

“Erik?” Charles asked his bathroom wall as he waited for the water to heat up. The water wasn’t running on the other side of the wall, but Erik could always just be running late. Charles wasn’t even sure if Erik was even home. After a few minutes of hearing nothing from the bathroom next door, Charles chalked it up to Erik not being home, or being passed out, and went back to his normal shower routine (normal routine from before Erik moved in).

Part of him was sad that Erik was missing their nightly conversations, since their shower schedules had synced up after the first night, but the other part of Charles was relieved that he could have some personal time to himself. So, he pulled up his favourite memories of his neighbour’s voice and started wanking himself off, happily losing himself to the pleasure. He finished with a choked-off moan not long after he started, letting the water rinse the evidence of his release down the drain.

Almost immediately after Charles finished, there was a loud crash from the other side of the bathroom wall.

Charles blinked hard, trying to focus past the influx of hormones to his brain to force himself back to reality. Charles pretended like his hadn’t heard _anything_ from the other side of the wall and quickly finished washing up, his face burning in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure _why_ he was embarrassed, since Erik had been eavesdropping on his private time without Charles’ knowledge and Charles was completely innocent of doing _anything_ indecent because he _waited_ to make sure that Erik wasn’t there before… Bollocks, Charles was panicking. Before Charles could even _think_ about calming himself down, he heard a tiny moan come from the other side of the wall.

 _Oh my God._ Charles thought, face on fire while his brain ground to a halt. Was Erik _masturbating_? Maybe he had hurt himself in the loud crash? Nope, the gasping breath that followed Charles’ thought cut _that_ progression right off. Erik was _definitely_ wanking off. But, maybe it wasn’t from Charles. It might just be a coincidence. Blokes wanked off in the shower, because it was easier to clean up. That was _totally_ normal. And not weird in the slightest. Charles escaped his bathroom and breathed, trying to force Erik from his brain completely. He didn’t manage to succeed, and the image of Erik (who looked like Michael Fassbender in Charles’ head, but that was just a fantasy and had no basis in reality) naked and hard and wet flitted through Charles’ mind. Charles put on some headphones and blasted The Beatles into his eardrums while he vainly hoped that it would drown out the feelings he was developing for his neighbour.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for the lift alone when a tall, excruciatingly hot bloke walked in to the lobby. He was preoccupied with the conversation on his phone, and barely gave Charles a nod as he passed by, trotting up the stairs quickly as he spoke quietly into his phone. If Charles had been unsure when the man passed, the way he spoke was unmistakable. _That_ was Erik. Tall, taller than Charles was (if Charles _could_ stand), with short, dark hair and sharp blue-grey eyes. Charles shut his eyes and focused on the rapid-fire words that passed through Erik’s lips and sighed, like some lovesick lady in a drama.

“Charlie? Do you need help getting up to your flat?” And _there_ was Mrs. McNamara, startling Charles out of his reverie. God, he was _screwed_ if he was falling in love with his neighbour, who not only was absurdly smart, but also hot as hell…

“I’m fine, Mrs. McNamara.” Charles wheeled himself into the lift and steeled himself for the awkward conversation she was going to subject him to.

“Have you met dear Erik, yet?” She asked, as the doors shut.

“No, not yet.” Charles told her, patiently. “We’re both just on different schedules, I think.”

“Well, go introduce yourself!” Mrs. McNamara said. “I just saw him walk in.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Charles muttered, flushing. “And I’ve got some work to do…”

“It won’t take but a mo.” Mrs. McNamara waved his concerns away as the lift doors opened on his floor. Right as they left the lift, the door to Erik’s flat shut.

“He looks busy.” Charles pointed out. “I’ll just do it later.”

“I’ve been waiting for you two for weeks.” Mrs. McNamara frowned at him, showing her displeasure for all the world to see. “Now, you go talk to that nice boy, or I’ll _make_ you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Charles nodded. Mrs. McNamara shooed him towards Erik’s door and walked back to the lift.

“Hurry up.” She told him, right before the lift doors shut, taking her up to her floor. Charles quickly wheeled himself over to his flat and fumbled with his keys for a moment. He heard the door further down the hall reopen and deliberately did _not_ look back. He could _not_ engage a man _that_ attractive without making a fool of himself.

 _Don’t look at me. Don’t engage. I’m nobody. Just ignore me._ The thoughts were loud in Charles’ mind as he _finally_ got his front door open. Charles got into his flat and pushed the door shut behind him with a careless shove. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was avoiding anymore, since the man was his _neighbour_. Bloody hell, they had practically wanked off together. There wasn’t much that they _hadn’t_ talked about. Charles needed to get over himself.

After a good ten minutes of his verbal self-flagellation, Charles steeled himself and went to go take a shower. The shower on the other side of the wall was already running, which almost ( _almost_ ) made Charles turn around. But no. There was _nothing_ to be afraid of. Maybe Erik was as attracted to Charles as Charles was to Erik. But _that_ wasn’t very likely. Regardless of how much people liked his personality, the whole wheelchair bit tended to throw potential suitors _away_ from Charles. Plus, Erik would have to be _attracted_ to Charles in the first place. Which just wasn’t likely.

“Charles?” Erik’s pleasant voice called out hesitantly from the other side of the wall as Charles started up his shower.

“Hullo.” Charles couldn’t help the stupid smile that flitted over his features at Erik’s voice. Bloody hell, he was a goner.

“I must have missed you last night.” Erik continued, after confirming Charles’ presence. Charles flushed with embarrassment and hummed an agreement, not trusting his voice. “Have you given any thought to your next move? Or have you conceded defeat?”

“I shall _never_ concede defeat in chess, my friend.” Charles replied, grinning to himself. “I have never been beaten.” It was true. Even when their father started teaching him and Raven how to play the game, he never lost.

“Perhaps you’ve met your match.” Erik suggested, chuckling. It was true that playing a long, drawn-out game over the course of three weeks and played _entirely_ in their minds would put them on a more even playing field, but Charles was confident in his abilities. Erik had made a move that was too obvious with what his end-game was, and Charles knew he could easily work around it. So, Charles did. They each made a handful of moves, intermingled with a discussion about their jobs (Charles’ was awful, with a terrible boss while Erik’s was lovely, but stressful).

“Have a lovely evening, Erik.” Charles finally informed the man, when he couldn’t stall leaving his shower any longer. The water was turning cold and he didn’t fancy sitting under cold water just to continue a conversation with the man he fancied.

“You, too, Charles.” Charles shut off his water, listening to Erik do the same, and went about his business, blatantly ignoring whatever noise Erik was making on the other side of the wall in favor of focusing on drying himself off and _not_ accidentally killing himself by falling out of the tub. If he perhaps ended the evening by wanking off to the memories of Erik talking _chess_ to him, there was no one present who could corroborate such a tale (nor could they judge him).

Three days later, Charles’ entire world collapsed in one fell swoop:

His sister came back.

“Charles!” Raven hugged him tightly as soon as he got the door open.

“Raven!” Charles smiled happily. “When did you get back? Where did you _go_? Tell me everything! Have you eaten? Let’s get dinner!”

“I missed you.” Raven giggled at Charles’ exuberance.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“All right.” Raven settled herself familiarly behind Charles’ wheelchair and started walking them towards the lift. “Take me out to dinner, big brother. And I’ll introduce you to Hank.”

“Who’s Hank?” Charles asked.

“He’s a guy I met in New Delhi.” Raven replied.

“ _Really_?” Charles asked, excitedly. Raven had been alone for a long time. If this Hank was anyone important to her, Charles needed to meet him.

“Relax.” Raven laughed as the lift opened up. “He’s just a friend.”

“Where would you like to go?” Charles asked. “Anywhere you like. I’m buying.”

“Fish and chips.” Raven said, decidedly. “I’ve _craved_ some good fish and chips.”

“Fish and chips it is.” Charles grinned. When the lift doors opened to the lobby, Raven didn’t even hesitate as they nearly ran smack into Erik, who was just coming home. Erik blinked at them and muttered a quick apology. Raven waved him off and kept moving, talking enthusiastically to Charles, who was lost to shock and embarrassment. What if Erik thought they were _dating_ and was going to give up on Charles completely? Which was utter nonsense, since Erik didn’t hold a torch for Charles _anyway_. God, Charles needed to stop living in his own silly fantasy.

“You all right?” Raven asked. “You seem out of it, Charles.”

“I’m fine.” Charles lied.

“You’re lying.” Raven stopped their progress down the street and eyed him carefully. “What happened?” Her eyes unfocused as she thought about what had changed in Charles’ demeanour and what had precipitated that change. She must have come to some conclusion because she smiled at her brother like she won the lotto.

“It’s nothing, Raven.” Charles repeated, hoping that she’d listen to him (for once).

“Who’s the bloke?” She asked, ignoring him completely. “Is he a boyfriend? No, he would have introduced himself. Who is he, Charles?”

“No one.” Charles denied, ears burning.

“Charles. Don’t lie to me.”

“He’s my neighbour.” Charles replied. “That’s it.”

“Oh.” Raven nodded, smiling slyly. “So, you _want_ him to be more.”

“Raven!” Charles had forgotten how _annoying_ his sister could be when she wanted to. He flushed, his face turning red along with his ears.

“Tell me about him.” Raven ordered. “I’ll tell you all about my journey and _you_ can tell me all about this mysterious neighbour of yours.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Charles muttered.

“Then why are you blushing?” Raven asked.

Charles was then forced to sit across from his sister as she grilled him about one Mr. Erik Lensherr while she blatantly ignored _all_ his attempts to change the subject to _her_ travels. Charles was _sure_ he had never regretted their relationship more than he had in that moment, and that included when Raven got him in trouble with their mum, right before the accident that left him in his wheelchair. Raven was obnoxiously precocious and always had been. And she was like a dog with a bone when it came to Charles’ life. Or lack thereof. He had never been particularly exciting.

“Tell me about Hank.” Charles tried, again, to distract his sister from her infernal prying.

“I will when you actually _answer_ my questions instead of avoiding them.” She replied.

So, Charles told her _all_ about Erik Lensherr, including the somewhat-mutual wank session they had engaged in the other evening (they were _very_ close growing up). Raven gaped at Charles as his story progressed, forgetting all about the fish and chips in front of her in favor of staring, open-mouthed, at her brother.

“Charles…” She blinked at him slowly when he finished. “You _idiot_.”

“What?” Charles was _not_ expecting that reaction (which was odd because normally he could read his sister like a book).

“He _fancies_ you!” Raven sighed, exasperatedly.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“He talks to you _every bloody night_ , Charles!”

“He’s friendly.”

“He _wanked off_ to you!”

“You have no evidence to support that.”

“Charles!”

“What?”

Raven glowered at him, and proceeded to loudly supply him with all the reasons she thought he was being thick and all the reasons why she thought Erik, whom she had never met before and therefore had _no_ basis for what kind of person he was, _completely_ fancied Charles. Charles stubbornly ignored all of her reasons (some of which were perfectly logical and reasonable, but Charles was deliberately ignoring that fact). He quickly changed the subject, making Raven frown at him, to Hank, this mysterious guy who was _not_ a boyfriend who she had met in her travels. The rest of the evening passed by with Raven telling him story after story of the things she had seen and done across the globe. Erik wasn’t mentioned for the rest of dinner.

In fact, Erik didn’t even cross Charles’ mind until he got back to his flat for the evening. Raven had abandoned him to go make sure her friend Hank was all right and settling in to her flat. The shower from Erik’s side was already running and normally, Charles would just hop in and apologize for running late. However, there was the unmistakable sound of Erik gasping through the wall of the shower. And then he moaned.

And fucking shite if it wasn’t the hottest fucking sound Charles had ever heard in his life.

Including Erik’s laugh. And chuckle. And his voice.

Charles was hard and desperate and he barely was able to convince himself _not_ to touch himself when a name came unbidden through the wall. It was so focused and so intense that there was _no way_ Charles could have missed it.

“Charles…” Erik was panting and groaning and _did he just say that?!_

Charles couldn’t have stopped his hand freeing his erection and fisting it if his life depended on it. _Nothing_ was more arousing than knowing that _you_ were the source of someone’s masturbatory pleasure. Charles bit back his groan as soon as his hand touched his hot flesh, hoping against hope to hear that delicious sound again.

“Ah, fuck…” Erik moaned again. Charles almost whimpered. It was too much. Erik’s voice was going to make him cum faster and harder than he ever had in his life. And now he knew what Erik looked like. He could just imagine the man, tall and strong, completely naked and wet in the shower, his long, thick member trapped in his trembling fist as he struggled to hold himself upright through his mounting lust and pleasure…

“Erik!” Charles hit his orgasm hard and fast and he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his throat.

“Ah!” Erik’s voice was confused, but he abruptly cried out, probably reaching his own orgasm. Charles sat, completely still, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He could barely hear his own thoughts, much less whatever his hot neighbour was saying to him. “Charles?”


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Charles was never going to be able to show his face again. He tried to find his voice, to answer, to _apologize_ , but he couldn’t even move. Eventually, the silence became unbearable, and Charles escaped back to his bedroom. He almost burst into tears as he caught sight of his shirt, now artfully draped in semen. Muttering to himself about how stupid he was and how could he _ever_ think Erik had been thinking about _him_ , there was probably some bloke named Charles at his work (though Charles couldn’t recall Erik ever mentioning someone by that name), Charles stripped his shirt off, zipped his trousers up, and considered his options.

If Erik heard his shower going, he might try to have a conversation with him. Charles couldn’t handle a conversation with Erik. Not now. Maybe not ever. It was too much to hope that their interaction just now would never be mentioned again. Erik was too confrontational. He didn’t care how uncomfortable things got, he just wanted answers. Charles wouldn’t be able to shower tonight. Or, if he did, he’d have to do it after Erik went to sleep. Oh, fuck, Charles would have to change his whole shower schedule around now. It was his only option to avoid Erik. And avoiding Erik was what he was going to have do if he wanted to _never_ think of what just happened again.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The knock on Charles’ front door made his heart and mind stop. Part of him thought about pretending not to be home, but the more proper side of him insisted on answering the door. He cursed his mother and her proper English manners as he rolled himself to his front door. He promptly cursed his inability to walk when he couldn’t look through the peephole to confirm his suspicions. He had never needed to look through it before (from lack of company, honestly), but he was regretting not having a lower one put in when he had the chance.

“Hullo?” Confirming his worst fears, Erik stood at his door, wearing a pair of loose-fitting joggers with a comfortable-looking t-shirt that showed off his collar bones in a way that was _not_ doing any favors to Charles’ sanity. He was still slightly damp, like he had _just_ toweled off. Charles wanted to sink into the floor and die.

Erik opened his mouth and froze, just staring at Charles. Charles frowned, confused as to why the man was just _staring_ at him and looked stunned and… Charles abruptly realized that he had never put a new shirt on after taking his other one off. He flushed and tried to think of what the best reaction would be.

“Uh… sorry.” He muttered. “Wasn’t expecting company. Let me… er…” Charles left his door open and rolled back to his bedroom, snagging a sweater and throwing it on before going back to his living room. Erik had stepped inside the front door but didn’t move any farther into the room. It took Charles a second to realize he was just being polite, rather than being confused at the lack of sitting furniture in the flat. Oh, Charles had a _really_ comfortable armchair, but since he never had company, he didn’t feel the need for a couch. If he was going to go through the effort of hauling himself out of his wheelchair, he was just going to flop onto his bed.

“How could you _not_ be expecting company after…” Erik shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Look, it was an accident. It’ll never happen again, I swear. I’m so sorry, Erik. I’ve already come up with a new shower schedule to avoid this and it won’t be a problem and…” Charles trailed off from his ramble when he heard Erik chuckle.

“Nervous?” Erik tilted his head with a smirk. Charles both hated and _adored_ that look.

“Would you like some tea?” Charles almost, _almost_ , slapped himself for saying something so asinine. But it was the only thing he could think to say. Erik laughed.

“How very English of you.”

“I’m trying to salvage my dignity.” Charles pouted, just a bit. Erik’s eyes caught the gesture and his grin widened for a second.

“Look, I’m not trying to upset you or make you nervous.” Erik was suddenly very serious.

“Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” Charles muttered, under his breath.

“I just wanted to let you know that I fancy you and would like to invite you out on a date.”

Charles’ brain executed a full-stop.

“You’re brilliant and funny and gorgeous. I do hope you decide to _not_ alter your shower schedule any, for I would miss our sing-alongs and I might never know the end of our chess match, which would be terrible.”

Charles couldn’t figure out how to speak. He was _sure_ he learned at some point that language was a thing and that speech was _also_ a thing and _what had Erik said?_

“Just think about it and let me know.” Erik was flushed, just a bit. “You know where I live.” He turned towards the open door.

_Don’t go._

Charles sat there like a lump while Erik let himself out of his flat. A small voice that sounded suspiciously like his sister urged him to stop being a fucking moron and _to move already!_ Charles wheeled himself to the door, tossing it open in time to see Erik walk into his flat. Before he could think better of it, Charles had wheeled himself down the hall and was knocking on Erik’s door. The door opened almost instantly, and Erik was grinning that perfect smile and it made Charles’ heart hurt.

“You didn’t give me a chance to respond before just walking away.” The bravado in Charles’ voice was pure bullshit, but this was Erik. Erik, who had become his friend in addition to his neighbour. “That was rude.”

“Indeed.” Erik’s smile was doing all sorts of unfortunate things to Charles. “Do forgive me. What _is_ your response, if I might ask?”

“Would you like to have this conversation in the hallway?” Charles asked, abruptly realizing where he was and feeling his ears burn.

“That depends.” Erik chuckled. “Are you planning on turning me down?”

“No.”

“Then, come on in.” Erik stepped back to allow Charles to enter and shut the door behind him. The door made an ominous _thud_ as it shut, reminding Charles of everything that had transpired up to that point. He made a show of looking around, noticing that everything was clean and well-organized and a little bare. There wasn’t any frivolous decorations or really much of anything on the walls. It might have seemed sad if Charles didn’t get the impression that Erik just was too busy to care about decorations.

“Shall I ever get a response?” Erik asked, startling Charles out of his reverie. “Or will I have to wait?”

“You already _got_ a response.” Charles argued. “Considering that’s the only reason you let me in.”

“True.” Erik suddenly looked abashed and embarrassed. “Would you like some tea or… something?”

“No, thank you.” Charles replied politely.

“Your manners are impeccable.” Erik laughed.

“My mother.” Charles shrugged. “Unfortunately, those same manners never took in my sister, Raven.”

“Is she the one you were with earlier today?” Erik asked.

“You noticed?”

“Of course, I did.” Erik chuckled. “I’ve been trying to find the courage to ask you out for weeks now. When I saw you with… Raven, was it? I thought I lost my chance. Until tonight.”

And all of the embarrassment that Charles had forgotten about came back with a bloody vengeance. He flushed and Erik smirked again. Charles silently cursed the ability that Erik had to be arousing no matter _what_ he did. Erik leaned down, putting his hands on the armrests of Charles’ wheelchair and looming over Charles.

“You masturbated to me, didn’t you?”

Charles almost yelped at the abruptness of the question. He flushed even darker, if it was possible, and bit his lip to hold back the whimper that emerged at the authority in Erik’s voice. He might possibly have just learned about a new kink. Perhaps it was just Erik and his voice. His damnably sexy voice.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Erik licked his lips and Charles could have cried. He was hard _again_. “Just answer me one question: are you single?”

Charles shook his head.

“Not since I met you.”

Erik tilted his head.

“Are you subtly telling me that I stole your heart?”

Charles flushed.

“Oh, darling, if only you knew how fucking adorable you are.”

“I’m not–!”

Charles was cut off from his protest when Erik stole his lips. Immediately, Charles moaned in response to the kiss and Erik broke away.

“You need to _not_ make that noise if you expect me to let you leave.” Erik’s voice was rough and deeper than it had been not two seconds prior.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, Charles. In fact, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself around me.” His voice was gentle and soothing and it was entirely unfair how calm and rational he was when Charles was _dying_ here!

“But–”

Charles was going to continually interrupt Erik if it meant he would get kissed to stop.

“I’m serious. I’ve been wanting you for _weeks_.”

Charles didn’t even get a word out before Erik was kissing him.

“I didn’t say anything.” Charles murmured, when Erik pulled back a mere inch.

“I know,” He smiled against Charles’ lips, “I just wanted to kiss you again.”

“You know kissing me won’t always work in shutting me up, right?”

“Looks like I have to try harder then.” Erik’s grin make Charles go weak at the knees, which he would probably feel better if he could stand. “But before we go any farther…”

Charles groaned and tugged Erik into another kiss. Fuck, he could get addicted to Erik’s lips. Erik pulled back, trying to get some distance to finish whatever conversation he started.

“Hey, I’m serious!” Erik told Charles.

“So am I.” Charles replied.

 “Look, I professed my love for you and your brilliant brain and I get that you like kissing me, but I just wanted to make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Erik was a little breathless, which made Charles feel better. At least he wasn’t the _only_ one affected by this… What the hell were they doing in the first place?

“Misunderstandings?” Charles tried to focus. He _really_ did. But Erik’s collarbones were just too distracting.

“We only just met physically five minutes ago.” Erik pointed out. “I didn’t even know you were in a wheelchair until recently.”

Charles instantly focused, his heart dropping and his happiness disappearing with one word. He leaned back a bit, trying to get a bit of space between him and Erik so he could stop breathing that earthy musk that _must_ have had something to do with Erik’s soap because it was fucking _intoxicating_. Erik also leaned back, breathing hard.

“I just want to be on the same page regarding… this.” Erik gestured between their bodies.

“What _is_ this?” Charles asked.

“Well, I asked you to be my boyfriend, but you kind of left me hanging, so we’re a bit stuck, as it were.”

“Of course I want to be your boyfriend!” Charles was dumbfounded that anyone would _not_ want to be Erik’s boyfriend.

“While that makes me feel better about kissing you, there’s still some more to discuss.” Erik couldn’t seem to settle down, refusing to back off or relax.

“Like?”

“How fast do you want this to move? I want to move at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Er…” He couldn’t say the words out loud. He didn’t have enough courage. Instead, he looked meaningfully down at his lap, where his erection wasn’t making any effort to hide.

Erik laughed, the sound delighting Charles.

“That answers my next question, which I was afraid to ask because I wasn’t sure I could ask without offending you.”

“Can I have sex?” Charles gestured to his legs.

“Well, _traditional_ sex.” Erik corrected. “There are a myriad of ways to have sex that would have no impact on whether or not you’re in a wheelchair.”

“To answer your question,” Charles ignored Erik, “I have full sensation everywhere, but I can only move above my waist.”

“So, you can feel this?” Erik dropped one hand to Charles’ thigh. Charles couldn’t think of anything but that hand for a few seconds. Long enough that he forgot Erik’s question.

“Yes.” He asked for more, though he wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate answer to whatever it had been that Erik had asked.

“Good.” Erik’s smile was addicting. _Everything_ Erik was addicting. Charles would do _so_ many things to ensure he got to experience Erik in every way so he got to feed that addiction.

“Can we have sex _now_?”

“As you wish.” Erik kissed Charles. The mental images of what Charles wanted Erik to do to him flooding the forefront of his mind. Charles couldn’t help but whimper at one particular image of Erik holding Charles up, his back against a wall, Erik thrusting desperately as Charles clung to him, panting and begging for more…

Charles barely had time to get attached to that image before Erik had slid his arms around Charles’ shoulders and bum, hoisting him out of his chair. Charles yelped and wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders instinctively. Erik was grinning, though he was breathing hard, which made Charles feel better about losing his cool.

“I didn’t know you could hold me up…” Charles blinked down at the floor, much farther away than it was when he was in his chair.

“Don’t worry about me.” Erik laughed. “I’m strong enough to carry you right now. I’ll work out a little more so I can be strong enough to fuck you while standing, too.”

“Erik…!”

“What?” Erik walked them into his bedroom, where he helped Charles settle on the bed. “I’m completely serious.”

“That doesn’t mean you _say_ it!”

“My darling Charles, I am going to _have_ to say it if you’re going to have that charming blush every time.”

“I wasn’t blushing!”

Erik merely smiled and touched Charles’ cheek, blatantly pointing out the lie.

“Shut up and kiss me, you infuriating–”

Erik kissed him and Charles couldn’t find fault with that particular method of shutting him up.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Erik all of point-seven seconds to get both of them stark naked. Charles couldn’t figure out how to function beyond groaning and twisting under Erik’s touch. Not that Erik was deliberately teasing him. In fact, the man was pretty blasé about taking their clothes off, which shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was.

“Charles…” Erik dropped his head onto the mattress next to Charles’ thigh, groaning loudly. “Fuck…”

“What’s wrong?” Charles found his voice with his concern.

“Absolutely _nothing_.” Erik surged up and kissed him hard and desperate and it was _everything_ Charles could have wished for. He whimpered into the kiss and Erik groaned again. “You are going to end this a **lot** sooner than I’d like just with those noises, darling.”

Charles flushed a bit, but with pride more so than embarrassment. He was pushing Erik’s buttons just as Erik had been pushing his, and it was intensely arousing to know Erik was lusting after him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Charles asked against Erik’s lips. Erik pulled back barely enough to breathe.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

“That makes this easier then.”

“I assume you prefer being on top.” Charles could barely speak after Erik kissed him again. He had no complaints on that regard. He’d rather be kissing Erik than anything else anyway.

“Traditionally, I’ve been on top.” Erik allowed. “Though I’m sure you could convince me to do most anything.” Charles, if possible, got harder at the thought. He gasped for air, tilting his head back in the attempt to clear his head. Erik was rather dominant even without introducing sex into the mix, and he was willing to…

Charles gasped as Erik’s tongue touched the sensitive nerve on the side of his neck. He lost his train of thought, focusing entirely on whatever it was Erik was doing. He could feel Erik’s lips twist into a grin as he kissed his way down Charles’ neck. He kept moving down, past Charles’ nipples with a brief pause to test their sensitivity, past the ticklish stretch of Charles’ abdomen, until his lips were teasing Charles’ inner thighs. Charles couldn’t twitch his legs away from the ticklish, yet arousing sensation, but his upper body jerked in reaction.

“I hope you know, I’ve been dying to do this since I first heard you singing along to Queen in the shower.” Erik informed Charles.

“Wha…?” Charles couldn’t properly get the word out. Not with Erik so close and _not touching him!_ Erik chuckled and sucked Charles’ erection down. Charles moaned loudly and his arms collapsed under him, leaving him limp on the bed. He couldn’t thrust into the wet, warm expanse of Erik’s mouth, but he could feel it. Fuck, could he feel it. His fingers gripped Erik’s shoulders tightly as he struggled to keep himself in check.

“You’re so beautiful.” Erik’s voice made Charles’ breath stop in his chest. He looked down and met the blue-grey eyes of his neighbour. He didn’t know _how_ he could get embarrassed, especially when he was laid out across his bed like a… Erik swallowed him down again before he could finish the thought, like he knew what Charles was thinking.

“Kiss me.” Charles demanded, in lieu of admitting Erik was getting him too close to completion.

“With pleasure.” Erik held himself over Charles’ body, scant inches away, and kissed Charles thoroughly. Charles almost whimpered at the lack of contact. He wanted Erik’s glorious body _everywhere_. Erik’s tongue swept past Charles’ lips and it was so innocent compared to what Erik had just been doing that Charles almost came. There wasn’t a reason for it, but it almost happened nonetheless. Irritated with his absence of control, Charles reached up and started touching the hard muscles above him. Erik choked at the contact.

“Charles…”

“You told me to figure out what I wanted.” Charles reminded him breathlessly.

“And you’ve come to a decision, have you?” Erik should _not_ have sounded as destroyed as he did. Charles had barely touched Erik’s chest and the man was trembling and gasping for air. Charles leaned up on one elbow to kiss Erik while his spare hand reached down to grip his rather impressive erection firmly. Erik whimpered and broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Charles…” His voice was tight and utterly wrecked.

“Hurry up.” Charles ordered, stroking deliberately. Erik somehow found the presence of mind to move. He shifted off Charles and sat up, struggling to breathe.

“We need…” He was a little frantic, and not entirely focused as he looked around. Charles grinned with pride. _He_ had done that. _He_ had somehow gotten the man bothered enough that he could barely think straight. And Erik _was_ barely thinking straight.

“Breathe.” Charles chuckled. Erik took a deep breath to calm himself and nodded at his bedside table. He didn’t manage to stand on his shaky legs, but slid down the bed to go digging through the drawer. His entire form froze once he had it open. “Erik?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Erik’s voice was quiet.

“Erik?”

Erik pulled out a large, sparkly purple dildo and turned to look at Charles, his eyebrow quirked in amusement. Charles gaped at the object in question, unable to believe _Erik_ of all people would have something so garish just in his bedside table. Or even own one at all. It was simultaneously arousing and embarrassing, especially since Charles had a matching one in his own bedside table.

“I’m not going to ask.” Charles mumbled, blushing furiously.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Erik teased. “Never used one before?”

“I have one identical to that.” Charles admitted, covering his face with both hands to try to hide from Erik’s reaction. Erik was silent for so long that Charles peeked from between his fingers to his neighbour struck dumb.

“I’m not going to ask.” Erik said. “But holy fuck, I didn’t think I could get more aroused right now and you’ve gone and shot _that_ in the foot.”

“I didn’t buy it!” Charles defended.

“Doesn’t matter. If you’re not opposed, I’d like to explore the rest of this drawer with you later.” Erik’s grin could have stopped traffic. Charles, if possible, got more aroused at just the _idea_ of what could be lurking in that drawer. “And what’s in that box under my bed.” He jerked upright.

“What?!” His voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve got more intensive materials under the bed.” Erik dug through the drawer to extricate condoms and lube before turning back to Charles. “Things like handcuffs and ropes. Not to mention the–” Charles clapped a hand over Erik’s mouth, too embarrassed to hear him say any more out loud.

“Erik!”

“I would be very much interested in exploring _everything_ with you.” Erik was grinning against Charles’ hand, his previous urgency forgotten in the need to tease. “But later. I just want you right now.”

His words didn’t help with Charles’ embarrassment.

Erik didn’t waste any more time, crawling over Charles to get between his thighs. Charles’ body ached with the lack of touch. His whole body was humming, waiting for Erik to _do_ something. Erik placed a calming hand on Charles’ belly.

“Relax, darling.”

“I _would_ if you would just _touch_ me.” Charles snapped back, irritably. He had been waiting _too_ long for this to have Erik just take his time with everything. Erik chuckled, but did as he was bid, his fingers probing at Charles’ hole. Charles bit back the whimper and fisted the sheets. Erik ran one hand soothingly along Charles’ thighs and abdomen while his other fingers, slick with lube, reached deeper and deeper until Charles was barely breathing. It didn’t hurt, Erik was moving too slow for that, but the pleasure was still a hair away. Erik crooked his fingers and Charles’ breath exploded out of his chest in a groan.

“Please, Erik…” He could barely form actual words. He wouldn’t be able to soon. Erik leaned forward, his fingers thrusting in and out, and kissed Charles.

“Fuck, you’re perfection.” He murmured. Charles whimpered, his hands grabbing at Erik’s biceps, since he couldn’t buck off the bed at the sensations. Those wonderful, exciting sensations. Erik pulled back and Charles made a whinging sound in the back of his throat. Erik twisted two more fingers into Charles. Charles bit his lip, trying to keep himself together. It would just ruin everything if he came too soon. Erik somehow had the faculties to, one-handed, roll on a condom and slick himself up.

In lieu of words, since words eluded him, Charles gave Erik all the sensations, all the pleasure, all the _need_ that he was feeling with the sounds he _could_ make. Erik’s eyes met his, dark and dilated, as he gasped for air.

“Charles…” His voice was rough, choked off, and desperate. He didn’t wait for a response. He slid forward, brushing the full length of his body against Charles’. Charles could feel the tension and urgency in Erik’s body. It was intoxicating. Erik somehow managed to get their bodies slotted together appropriately and thrust into Charles without fanfare. Charles clutched at Erik, throwing his head back as he breathed through being filled.

They both paused for a moment, adjusting to the sensations. Charles could feel both his pleasure and Erik’s pleasure through the trembling of the man’s body. It was nearly overwhelming knowing that Erik wanted this and was as aroused by this as Charles was. Erik breathed heavily into Charles’ shoulder, trying to keep himself from moving too quickly.

And, as suddenly as they had paused, they both started moving. Erik leaned back and gripped Charles’ thighs tightly as his hips snapped forward again and again. Charles pushed up onto his elbows to kiss Erik, urgently and messily. Erik groaned against Charles’ lips, feeling Charles clamp down on him. Charles fell back on the bed, unable to hold himself up with the pleasure he was getting. Neither of them spoke, as Erik thrust faster and harder. Slight adjustments on both parts were made without even acknowledging them. Erik needed a little more friction, so Charles tightened. Charles needed a different angle, so Erik shifted. It was almost instant as they reacted to the subtle body language of the other.

Their orgasms were fast approaching, but weren’t the focus of attention. Everything just felt _so good_ that it wouldn’t do to stop. Charles reached down and fisted his own erection, almost whimpering at the sensitivity. Erik gasped out a muffled curse, as he watched Charles’ movements. They were so focused on _feeling_ that everything else was lost.

Charles finished first, crying out at the abruptness of his orgasm. Erik didn’t last much longer, gasping for air as his hips stuttered and twitched. Charles moaned at the sensation of Erik’s throbbing inside him, shuddering in aftershocks. They didn’t move, both trembling and quivering as they struggled to breathe past the release of pleasure.

“Holy fuck.” Erik was the first one to manage language.

“Holy _fuck_.” Charles agreed.

“That was amazing.” Erik leaned forward and kissed Charles slowly and languidly. “Absolute perfection.”

“I’m not perfect.” Charles argued, softly.

“You are.” Erik corrected, holding himself over Charles with a smug smile as he took in every inch of Charles’ features. Charles never felt so beautiful or loved. Erik’s smile turned into a grin. Charles must have shown something on his face, but he couldn’t figure out what. He blushed. Erik kissed him again.

“We should clean up.” Charles groaned, not wanting to move.

“Give me a moment.” Erik sighed. “I’m not sure my legs would be any more effective than yours at the moment.” Charles laughed.

“May I stay the night?” He asked, softly.

“Oh, I’m not done with you, yet, darling.”

Charles felt joy down to his bones as Erik kissed him yet again. He’d never get tired of it.

* * *

The next morning, fortunately a weekend, Charles realized how little Erik kept in his apartment and shook his head, fondly. Both fully clothed, they exited Erik’s flat (which they had spent the majority of the night christening) with the express intention of walking the few meters to Charles' flat to eat. Erik had designs of also christening Charles' flat, which he tried and failed to keep hidden from Charles. Not that Charles minded. Erik paused in pushing Charles’ chair as they both noticed the plastic bag on the door handle. There was a plastic container with cookies inside and a small slip of paper that merely read _“Congratulations!”_ Charles blushed fervidly even though no one was around. Apparently, _he_ was the loud neighbour now.

He suddenly had a whole new appreciation for his previous neighbour.


End file.
